Single Brown Feather
by Trapped in Reality
Summary: Patrie has truly changed the rules of the Beast Wars.  One-Shot.


**Author: Trapped in Reality**

**Co-authors: Starfire201, Taipan Kiryu, iratepirate, DitzyMusicLover, eeyop1428**

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We're high enough to notice a significant lack of oxygen in the air. This is where the latest pod landed: in the dead middle of two rock piles, a plateau smothered in mud and no sign of vegetation. The boulders look very much as if a giant dropped a handful of pebbles with his arms outstretched... I prefer not to continue such a thought. The Maximals hide behind the rock pile to the right of the pod, and we the left pile. Whenever a soldier from either side would dare to move to the center, the opposing side would blast him into place.

My designation is Mielfria, and I'm a femme Predacon. I've been one ever since Megatron freed me from my own pod. Something malfunctioned with it because it scanned a polar bear and a raven. My beast mode is a polar bear with black wings jutting out of the shoulder blades. The wings do nothing except get in the way. At least I have my ice blaster, my thick armor plating, and muscles to spare.

I like to think that I am one of Megatron's favorite soldiers. Obviously Scorponok and Inferno (even if he's gender confused) are his favorite. I am just as loyal as they are, and I think slightly smarter, but sadly, Megatron does not like to hear of the possible damage this war is doing to this planet. Megatron knows I'm only fighting because of him.

Ever since that wonderful mech freed me, I have been nothing but loyal, and I have done all my duties to the best of my abilities, and I follow every order with perfection. Our orders now are to make sure the Maximals do not get this pod.

Suddenly, Airrazor appears on the scene and pauses high in the air. Predictably, the Predacons aim our weapons at her. Gracefully, she dodges the firepower. When Waspinator and Terrorsaur join her, every Maximal aims at _them_. That's when I notice the gray form creeping for the pod. In vain, I shoot at Rhinox; the ice pellets never reach him as _he_ reaches the pod.

I will not let Megatron's down! The Maximals will not get this pod! I charge at him, dodging any stream beams. The Maximals don't know where I am, and I take full advantage to that. I shoot the behemoth in the shoulder, distracting him long enough to tackle him in the mud.

I cringe as more mud clings to my pristine, white fur, but I know I have to stall until a Predacon who knows the codes gets here. Within two minutes of wrestling Rhinox, I find myself pinned under his massive weight. Out the far corner of my eye, I see Dinobot reaching the pod. I grab a handful of mud and fling it into Rhinox's eyes. With him distracted, I aim and shoot... and miss Dinobot.

However, that gets his attention, and he pauses, throwing a look in the direction the shot came from. He sees me, and his eyes narrow. The next thing I know, he's cast Rhinox over to the side and is standing over me, his sword at my neck.

"Surrender, femme!" he yells as I surreptiously move my hand to grab a handful of mud.

"No chance, traitor!" I return, throwing the mud in his face. He roars and tries to wipe it away. I take the chance and shoot his sword away. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tarantulas moving towards the pod. I don't trust that spider, but as long as the Maximals don't get their hands on it, I'll let him be.

I return my attention to Dinobot, who has now cleaned off his face and is moving to retrieve his sword. I aim my weapon and shoot again, but Dinobot is faster and manages to deflect the ice pellets destined to take him down.

"You will have to do better than that, pig face!" he spits. "I will not fall for the same trick twice."

Some say that Dinobot has the worst of both a Predacon and a Maximal. Now I can see why. Resorting to insults is not only low, but also useless. I am a warrior, the most loyal Predacon under Megatron's command. Simple word games won't distract me.

I pounce at him and grab his arm. His sword rotates so close to my face that I can smell it. How many warriors died by that sword, when Dinobot was still an honourable Predacon?

"No, I take it back," he hisses. "You look more like a retarded pig."

This time I find myself infuriated. I kick his middle section and he roars in pain, stepping back as he struggles to liberate his sword from my grip. I aim for a second attack but I pay a high price for my inexperience. Dinobot crashes his face against mine and an intense pain mixes with the smell of blood and rotten meat, perhaps the remains of Dinobot's dinner…

"Now you really look like a retarded pig, milady!" he mocks me.

Mildly dazed I lay still for a moment, the white fog of unconsciousness threatening to steal me away. Megatron would not be pleased seeing me this way; he would not be pleased if the pod was lost because I was careless and got myself caught by Dinobot...

"Squeal, little piggy, squeal," I could hear Dinobot laughing as the ringing in my head subsided, leaving behind an ache that would no doubt last the rest of the day.

Disgusting traitor, there seemed to be no limit to his pettiness. Feeling the blade pressed against my neck I hesitate, before carefully unfurling my wings and dragging them out from beneath me. Faster than I think it possible, I bring them around and slam them against the sides of Dinobot's head. He grunts and stumbles, and I charge him to send him crashing on his back. I use his moment of weakness to deliver unblockable punches to his face, while my weight keeps him down. Perhaps my useless wings aren't so useless.

"Obtain that pod at all costs!" I hear the voice of Megatron boom over the crossfire. "The Maximals must not have it!"

That's right – the pod! I must retrieve it for Megatron with my own claws, and then... and then he might favor me above all others, and start realising how important I am to his cause, not just some second-hand drone.

I look down at the crumpled form of Dinobot, unconscious and beaten. I smirk and stand up. There shall be a next time to destroy him, but the pod takes precedence over a pathetic traitor. So I ready my ice blaster and make off towards the prize. I hide behind a stray boulder nearest to the pod, several metres away. Chaos surrounds me with Maximals and Predacons clashing into each other; laser fire cuts the air and painful collisions echo in my ears. But I don't let these disturbances distract me from my objective, the oval shell waiting to be harvested. I can't.

I bolt for the pod when I am certain that the way is clear, but halfway in my sprint a force hit me on my side and takes me to the ground. It is Rattrap. I wrestle with him in the slime, attempting to pull him off, but he has a death grip on me.

"I won't let you touch that pod!" he yells.

"Let go of me you little rodent!" I growl, desperate.

I get to my feet and, using a burst of power, swing the little rat away. He flies into Tarantulas who was defending the controls of the pod from the other Maximals. Unfortunate for him, but a golden opportunity for me. I race to the controls. Though when I stand in front of it I suddenly remember that I don't know the codes. I curse, but I try punching buttons anyway in the hope that I may miraculously activate the pod's opening sequence. And if I do, all the more praise I'll receive from Megatron.

"Mielfria," Scorponok's scratchy annoying voice says from my left. "What do you think you're doing? You don't know the right codes to input, newbie. You might just break it – let me handle this."

I stiffen and block his view of the control panel. I have waited for a moment such as this to prove my worth! He will not take this from me! I will see to it that Megatron's glory is my own!

Scorponok does not wait for my reply and promptly shoves me aside. I topple over, a searing pain in one of my wings invades my processor; the pain takes me to the ground as Scorponok takes my place at the controls. My claim to glory crumbles as I land on one of my wings, crushing its exostructure with sheer weight alone. My raven wings are truly useless things. When I had boxed Dinobot's head, I must have tampered with their integrity.

I stay on the ground as a familiar light scans the area—mission accomplished. Finding no life source on the plateau, the red scanning light dips over the edge. I dare not move at all for fear of more pain as legs block my view—the traitor's legs. "I'm feeling generous, Predacon. How would you like to die?" he asks in that awful, gravelly voice, as he brings his spinning sword to my throat.

I spit at his clawed feet. "It all depends on how the Maximals have weakened you. Just how far are you willing to go to make me pay for my crimes, _Maximal_?" I smirk as I see him twitch violently at the nerve I hit.

He makes a move to make a clean swipe for my neck (Really? How weak to kill me off so quickly.), but a new deep commanding voice still the entire battleground; "Patrie, terrorize!" All optics fall on the brown and with mech standing beside Scorponok. The new mech studies the battle before him. All wait for his first move. He pulls out a long, double-barrel blaster from a compartment on his back. He whispers, "I don't understand."

With quick reflexes, he shoots Dinobot (who at that distance was knocked back quite a few paces), transforms into an eagle, and flees the scene.

Emotions flood my processor. Grateful for the save, confusion that Patrie left, and anger that he left his post. I get up _slowly_ and watch his wingspan disappear into the blue sky. "You messed up the codes, didn't you, Scorponok?" I accuse harshly.

"Predacons, after that eagle!" Megatron commands.

"It's not my fault! It must have been in his personality before I did anything!" Scorponok raises his hands in defense.

"MOVE!" Megatron commands again.

I glance at my fractured wing as my comrades transform around me. I have to travel in root form.

"Mielfria, Terrorize!" I call the trigger and transform into my root mode. However, before I flee into the woods to follow after the others, I see Rhinox and Cheetor moving towards the pod while Tarantulas is trying to drag it away. I decide to create a little diversion and fire my ice blaster at the ground near their feet. I may not trust the spider, but by no means am I letting the Maximals get hold of the pod, empty or not.

They slip and slide across the ground, and Tarantulas manages to drag the pod into the underbrush. However, I will be letting Megatron know about this later. I once more fire my pellet gun at the ground between the Maximals and the Predacons, just as I hear Optimus Primal giving the order to follow. At all costs, they cannot be allowed to catch Patrie.

The trees are thick, and with one wing damaged, I can't fold it properly. That makes navigating through difficult, but I don't let it deter me. The others aren't that far ahead, with Megatron leading the way. I know they won't wait for me, but I don't mind bringing up the rear. It means I have a chance to prove to Megatron that I can keep the Maximals at bay if they do catch up to us.

And as if they could read my mind, a shot grazed past my head, hitting a tree ahead. I turn around to see Cheetor heading up fast, with Rattrap riding on his back, blaster in hand. Cheetor is able to maneuver through the trees with ease, even carrying Rattrap, who is the one who fired. I fire my ice blaster back at them, while trying to keep up with the group. It is hard.

When pain happens again, I can feel it expanding through my entire body as a disease. It must be bad this time, because suddenly my legs don't obey me anymore. More than pain, it's frustration what corrodes me. If I fail, Cheetor and Rattrap will be able to catch up with my retiring comrades, jeopardizing the acquisition of the new Predacon. Megatron won't be pleased.

"_Mielfria, Patrie is near your location. Make sure the Maximals don't get him!" _the voice of the Master resounds inside my head, brought perhaps by a simple communication device, but as clear and effective as if my leader were standing before me.

I roar in loyalty, my new orders returning strength to my tired body. I can't feel the pain anymore. Megatron will have what he wants.

Cheetor and his obnoxious rider are right behind me. It is then when my animal instinct acts. I fall to the ground, as if flamed by invisible fire. It works. I can smell their confusion as they get close to me.

And then I attack, my savagery overwhelming them as I forget about ice pellets and I try to tear them away with my raw teeth. Their pain is more than rewarding.

Cheetor's howl of agony rings out amongst the trees as I latch onto his neck, attacking with renewed fury. I feel Rattrap throw himself upon me and I roll wildly, throwing the pair from me despite the pain the action brings.

I lunge at Cheetor who has fallen on his side, but the lightning reflexes and agility of his animal form saves him: he gets up and leaps out of the way. I hit air and redirect myself to face him. Cheetor stands lengthways to me in display of his size, his slender cat body low to the ground and curved, ready for action. His fur bristles on his back and neck; he gives a vicious hiss and flashes his fangs. I release a bodily growl and show my fangs too. It looks like I'm not the only one who has turned wild.

Before I can begin a charge something jumps on my back heavily. I buck and shake as hard as I can, even swinging into a tree that breaks in two, but the rat yet still clings on to me. I roar and try to grab him off me. Suddenly there is pressure on my fractured wing – I cry with agony and struggle even harder in response.

"Cheetor, Maximise!" The cat transforms into his bipedal mode with a laser blaster in his hand.

I don't have a chance to escape his two shots to my shoulder and I start to fall. The rat jumps off me before I hit the ground. I land flat on my back, fortunately not on my undamaged wing. I try to get up but Cheetor's foot brings me back down and stays on me. His blaster is in my face.

"Give it up, Predacon," Cheetor breathes. "You've lost."

Lost. That is a term that I refuse to accept. It means that I have failed as a survivor; as a Predacon warrior; and most of all, as a subordinate of the Great Megatron who had led me since my awakening in this world. If I fail now, I will fail the one being whom I fight for, and that too I cannot accept. I will never give in, even if it means death. That is the least I can do.

I glare into Cheetor's eyes and say: "I'll never give in. You'll have to kill me. That is, if you have the strength to."

Cheetor seems to hesitate, torn between sparing my life and pulling the trigger. But then he tightens his grip on the blaster. I wait for the ultimate end.

A form too quick to catch strikes Cheetor from above and I am free from his hold. The form – a bird – hovers and makes a last swipe with its talons before flying away with a piercing cry.

"What in the world was that?" Rattrap says.

As if in answer the bird returns out of the trees and glides towards us; it stops in mid-air. "Patrie, Terrorize!" Its whole body shifts and folds until its new body is formed, and drops to the ground. Patrie takes out his blaster and aims at the two Maximals with aggression. They do the same but keep their distance. Patrie is silent.

Once again he has saved my hide, but I wonder why he had left the first time. At least he isn't taking off again. His behaviour is strange. Scorponok must have botched up the sequence codes as I thought.

I get to my feet and hold my flank where my broken wing is. I am in no shape for combat. "Patrie, is it?" I ask. "Thanks for the save, again. Megatron will be most pleased to find you. And when he does, we will –"

"You stay away!" Patrie suddenly says and points his blaster at me. He backs away uncertainly. "All of you."

"Patrie, have you gone insane?" I say. "You're one of us Predacons."

"No, that's not true," Cheetor butts in. "You're a Maximal protoform, so you belong with us. The Predacons rewired your programming into thinking that you're one of them when they opened your pod. But we can change you back. We can help you."

"Don't listen to his lies!" I say. "The Maximals just want you for themselves for their own schemes. But with the Predacons you can rule _with_ us. Come with us and you will be guaranteed power."

"Hah, _now_ who's the one lying?" Rattrap says. "We Maximals have been meeting you head-to-head and have our fair share of victories. You guys aren't all that powerful; plus, you ain't lookin' too hot right now, are ya'? If you ask me, I'd go with the Maximals. Two on one, not bad odds, right?"

I growl at the rodent. I cannot allow these two fools to take my opportunity away from me.

Disturbance in the bushes sounds behind them and Primal, Rhinox, and Dinobot come out of the greenery to add to their numbers.

"Make that five on one," Rattrap says with a smirk.

Just when I believe I have truly lost, on the opposite side of the clearing there is a familiar rumble of my master's footsteps; his giant dinosaur head pushes through the tree leaves and the rest of my comrades appear on cue at both sides of him.

"There's our slippery quarry," Megatron says, looking at Patrie. "Predacons, do not let those Maximals take the protoform. Do whatever is necessary. I want that protoform."

There is a stare down between the factions, and in the middle is Patrie. He is slowly inching away from the area and eyeing both parties as he does so, blaster at the ready.

"It has come to this, Patrie," Megatron transforms and benignly lowers his weapon, "choose your side." On cue, we Predacons also lower our weapons to appear non-threatening and inviting. Not to be outdone, the Maximals scowl and lower theirs. I smirk—Patrie would surely choose our side.

"Choose?" Patrie spits and my spark sinks with dread. Why must all fliers be stupid? For once I am glad my wings don't grant me flight—I don't want to be dumb like _them._ "Choose between what? I wake up to a civil war, and you expect me to ignore the strife of other side! I see a choice between ignorance and lies! I choose neither"! He moves quickly. It is all I can do to cover my eyes as he shoots the ground, sending dirt and splatters of mud into the air. Blindly, I shoot an ice pellet right above the coward's last location and am rewarded with his shriek of pain. He won't get very far—I smirk.

I hear Optimus Prime murmuring to his troops to stand down. Just like Optimus to babble about respecting Patrie's wishes. However, I have a prey to catch.

"Predacons, if this is his choice, he chooses a Maximal's fate! Kill him on sight!" I hear the terse edge in his voice, and I understand—we have failed this mission. I am already moving when I hear this command, "Predacons, retreat!"

I feel so hollow inside—this defeat is unbearable. How will the mighty Megatron lead us to ultimate victory after so many defeats? The hollowness threatens to consume my CPU. I cannot allow for such thoughts. Megatron wouldn't allow it. Megatron will lead us to ultimate victory! To fill the growing void, I whip around and shoot Dinobot squarely in the shoulder joint. The ice condenses and splinters the weak metals there. His howls of pain soften the blow of defeat, and we are gone before any Maximal could retaliate. I mimic Megatron's smirk.

~NEW SCENE~

Another pod landed—another chance for Megatron's victory. The metallic gleam of the pod's shell catches my attention among the coarse grasses. The massive forms belonging to a bison herd also catch my optics. Too many of them to upset, I don't want to deal with a stampede. Cautiously, I stalk my way to the pod, relishing the feel of dirt between my claws—so much better than mud. I comm' Megatron with my coordinates, nearby reinforcements should arrive soon.

A shadow from above. Terrorsaur? Waspinator? A set of clawed feet latch onto my neck cables and rip as the mech departs. Patrie. The bird transforms and lands as I scream and collapse. I struggle to stay functioning. He's cut major connectors—I struggle to make sense of all the warning flashing across my visual readout.

"You here to convert me, too, like the Maximals?" he snarls.

"NO," I snarl back, "I have orders to kill you on sight!"

"Can't you see you're being used as a pawn in this useless war?" he pleads softly. "I'm sorry. I couldn't have you attack me first, you know how it is."

"You're a fool for not accepting Megatron's' hospitality. There are two ships off this planet, only one will leave, don't strand yourself."

He cocks his head to the side. "So be it. But I refuse to have a part in this war. But who knows? Maybe I can change the rules to this war. I merely wanted the company of a beautiful femme. But you'll see your error someday I hope." His voice and image fades.

When I recovered from stasis lock, the pod was empty save for a single brown feather. Patrie has truly changed the rules of the Beast Wars.

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**This lovely story was written using my lovely writing game. It's loads of fun! If you are interested at all, feel free to visit: http : /forum . fanfiction . net/forum/Writing_Game/66995/**


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